


no two hearts so open

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Pregnancy, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 20:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5062942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some love stories don't need many words. Some are told in just a glimpse, a snippet of a moment. Sometimes that's all you need to see to know how deep a love runs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no two hearts so open

**Author's Note:**

  * For [onceinabluemoon13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceinabluemoon13/gifts), [mellovesall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellovesall/gifts), [IdrisSmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdrisSmith/gifts).



> I had asked for quite a few prompts for paragraph fics over the last few weeks, and I'm finally getting around to answering a lot of them. These are a collection of a few of my favorites for various Sherlock couples. The title comes from a quote from "Persuasion" by Jane Austen.

  
**Red**  
_Irene Adler/Molly Hooper_   


Red was her colour of choice. Red was a colour she wielded like a weapon. It was the colour of her lipstick, vibrant and bold. It was the colour of the jewels she wore around her neck or the bracelets on her wrists or the rings on her fingers. It was the colour of her nails that she tapped on a person’s cheek or thigh or ran down their back if she so pleased. It was the colour of lacy lingerie she sometimes wore when black began to bore her. Red was her weapon because red was what was spilt when war was waged, and she felt she was always fighting, always trying to prove something to someone or trying to keep what was hers, to keep it safe.

Red was not Molly’s colour of choice, though. It was an accent, sometimes. It was the colour of the cherries on the jumper she wore that brought a smile to her face when she saw Molly in it. It was the colour of the patent leather belt she wore around her with the black and white polka dot strapless dress that drove her wild. It was the colour of double hearts with the arrow through them patterned all over her knickers that went with the camisole top in the second drawer of her dresser that Molly wore when she stayed over and didn’t want to sleep naked under the sheets. Red was the colour of the blush that dotted Molly's cheeks at times, the blush which she loved so very very much.

Molly knew red was her weapon of choice, and while occasionally she gave her red, she got other colours from her: brilliant blues and greens, vibrant yellows and oranges, passionate purples and pinks, and even the calmness and simplicity of black and white and grey. The woman who loved her gave her something she needed, something she craved. She gave her things to remind her that she did not need to be at war with the world all the time. She gave her things to remind her that there was sanctuary, that with her there was a warm and safe place full of colour and happiness and love. With her, there was more to the world than red to be spilt.

  
**Overlooking What’s In Plain Sight**  
_Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade_   


He’d never had many dealings with Sherlock’s older brother, surprisingly, before Sherlock’s addiction had caused him to go off the rails. Then for a while he saw more of Mycroft Holmes than he’d ever expected to. He wasn’t an altogether pleasant man, but when you were dealing with a genius and arrogant brother in the throes of a heroin addiction, you kind of expected it. So they banded together, worked with each other, got Sherlock straightened out and back on the right path.

And then Mycroft just…lingered. Hovered a bit more. Was around more than he wasn’t. It could be any number of reasons, he supposed; wanting to make sure his brother _stayed_ on the straight and narrow, taking more of an interest in the people his brother had in his life, slumming…there were any number of deductions he could make from the fact that Mycroft Holmes seemed to have taken an acute interest in him. Except for the fact, apparently, that the interest was in _him_ and it had nothing to do with his brother. That idea had escaped him entirely.

Mycroft still got a laugh out of it, years later, now that circumstances had changed and he’d finally picked up on all the clues and, as his better half had teased, “put those deductive skills my brother knew you had in you to good use and realized I was rather infatuated with you.” He was quite glad he had, too, because at this very moment he was happy, happier than he had ever been before, and it was all because of one Mycroft Holmes and some rather persistent skulking about until he had _finally_ gotten the hint.

  
**Little Games We Play**  
_Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper_   


Molly hadn’t believed John when he told her that Sherlock had gone to Buckingham Palace in a sheet. When John had written up the details of the case she simply hadn’t believed it but there were no photos, just John’s word for it, because Sherlock wouldn’t say one word about it. But after the first time they were intimate, when she’d borrowed his shirt to go out and get coffee he’d shuffled out behind her, sheet wrapped around him like a toga, and she decided it was her favorite outfit of his, even more than that purple shirt that was just a _little_ too tight.

And so now it was a familiar sight, either at Baker Street or at her flat, to see the quilt from the bed dumped on the floor and the sheet wrapped around his lithe body as he shuffled his way around, Molly’s gaze following him as she figured out ways of unwrapping that toga and having her wicked way with him. And if he realized that was what was on her mind he must not have minded too much, because it was always off quickly once her hands snuck into the fold to touch the bare skin underneath. This was their little game, and it was one they both seemed to love to play.

  
**The Right Partner**  
_Mycroft Holmes/Anthea_   


She didn’t understand the titillation that pornography was supposed to provide. It never did anything for her, at least. Watching the cheesy story lines and two people pressing their flesh together in a way that she supposed meant they were enjoying themselves was such a bore. When she was younger her friends had found it to be exciting, but she had just been confused. It just looked so…uninteresting.

And then the actual act hadn’t been much better. She’d had mostly subpar lovers for a long time, and the idea of intimacy had started to just seem to be something that was expected but not something worth enjoying. She had wondered what the whole point had been in building it up, the expectation that it was supposed to be some wondrous thing when it was really just a disappointment.

At least, until she met Mycroft. She had thought that he would be a boring lover, considering he was a rather staid and fastidious individual, but he was inventive in bed. He was considerate, giving, and more attentive than anyone else she had ever been with. He was more than just her lover; he was her partner, he washer friend...she might even go as far as to say he was her soulmate. She loved him with all her heart, and the intimacy was more just a delicious bonus. She felt lucky, so very lucky, that they had found each other, that they had given each other a chance to be more than just employer and employee. She loved every moment she was with him, both in and out of bed, and was grateful for each and every one.

  
**Perfect Way To Relax**  
_Greg Lestrade/Sally Donovan_   


Her head was resting on his chest as the two of them were in bed, clad in pyjamas, movie on the telly. She’d had a rather shite day, and he’d known just what to do to cheer her up: pint of Speculoos? Specu-Love ice cream, bag of Walkers Extra Crunchy Prawn Cocktail crisps, and a Harry Potter marathon. God, Greg knew her so well it was scary. That’s why she loved him so much. “Okay. Any spell, any spell at all, which one would you cast?”

She didn’t even need to think about it as she lifted up the arm in the sling, the arm that had earlier had a bullet in it. “Expelliarmus. Then I could have just gotten that bloody gun out of the bloody gunman’s hand _before_ I was shot,” she grumbled. The soft chuckle she could feel reverberating through him was accompanied by his arms tightening around her and a kiss pressed to her hair, and she relaxed against him. This was _just_ what she needed to relax.

  
**The Better Sex**  
_Irene Adler/Anthea_   


“You know, there is something to be said for very masculine men,” Irene said, flipping through the fitness magazine sitting by the examination table. “They can be quite attractive. Very nice to look at, with their…musculature. This one, for example, has very nice pecs.” She showed Anthea the picture. “Would you like to wake up to that every morning?”

“I suppose,” Anthea said, tilting her head. “Though I prefer soft curves, rounded derrières and breasts, myself.” She gave Irene a grin and Irene grinned back, reaching over for her hand. After a moment Anthea’s eyes widened and she moved Irene’s hand to her expanded abdomen. “She kicked.”

“Oh,” Irene said softly, her voice full of wonder. She wouldn’t say anything about Anthea’s slip of the tongue. They both wanted a girl, apparently. Not that men didn’t have their uses; this little miracle wouldn’t be there without one, of course. But really, as much as men were interesting and pleasant and could be very useful, women were simply much better.


End file.
